Where did they go?
I spin wildly in circles, searching every dark corner I can make out in the dim light. Up, down, high, low, left, right. I can’t see them anywhere.
Run. I need to run. I know what will happen if I’m too slow. I drop my bag and sprint through the corridors as fast as I am able, carefully checking every dark place I pass in case that is where they wait – wait for some part of my wildly grasping hands to brush against them in my panic. In case that is where they lurk, waiting to bite coldly into my unsuspecting fingers as they clutch desperately for a lifeline.
Wait. Stop. I have come in a circle. I began in this room. That’s not possible, I’ve been everywhere, seen everywhere. They’re gone. They can’t be gone. I know they have not, CAN not leave this house alone. I cannot leave this house until I know they leave with me. But will I be too slow? It doesn’t matter. They are my only way away, and my only way back.
My mad dash begins again, and I-
Wait. Stop. I force myself to go slower, to think, to move through the house more carefully, to leave no dark corner unseen. Speed is the enemy of haste. Or is it vice versa? I stop in every room, checking carefully for any sign they might be there. Skulking unseen, just out of my sight, I somewhere I have not thought to look. Somewhere-
Wait. Stop. I remember something. Is it possible? I dash back to the first room, and find my discarded possession. I thrust my hands into the bag, throwing the other contents out onto the floor. My fingers touch something cold. Metallic. I grip onto it and pull it into the light. There they are! I curse my memory.
Keys firmly clutched in my hand, I sprint out the door, jump in the car, and shove the right key into the ignition as I check my watch. Not too late. I might still make it on time.
About the Creator
Brigitte Bennet
Writing first and foremost for fun, I've been dabbling in creative writing since childhood. Recently I've been working on developing two of my old novel ideas, as well as experimenting with writing a few shorter stories to improve my style.
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Change
“Change is gonna come” proclaims the song that is my morning alarm, rousing me from sleep. I roll over and groan at the bright sun streaming through the window as I hit ‘Dismiss’ and the phone goes silent. I reply to the message from my sister before I stand and pull on the clean uniform hung ready on the bedroom door. Black pants, green shirt, brown jacket, white shoes with green laces. As I walk to my kitchen my cat circles my legs and I tell her “Breakfast time!” I fetch my tea and porridge, and feed Artemis, and walk to my little balcony to eat and watch the morning customers of the bakery. Mary gets a blueberry muffin and a black coffee, then opens her florist shop next door. It’s Monday, so Jason gets one loaf of white bread and two custard tarts, then heads back towards home. The baker flirts with the English teacher by giving him a sausage roll for half price. The teacher doesn’t notice, that’s his usual price. The baker’s daughter eats a fresh apple Danish while he’s distracted. I finish my porridge as my cat comes through the cat-flap to join me, sitting in her favourite patch of sun. I finish my tea and walk to work. “Hey John!” greets my co-worker. “How’s Anna enjoying New York?” I tell him my sister likes it the same as she did when he asked yesterday and pick up my first tour group. I finish work and head home, another Monday the same as the rest. I sigh and wonder when the sound of my morning alarm will no longer feel mocking.
By Brigitte Bennet2 years ago in Humans
I Was Blind to Your Lies
My heartaches are too heavy to carry with every step I take. It’s a dull pain that never goes away, a wound that will never completely heal. I think of you, of how you used to make me feel Of my feelings for you, of a broken heart that was real I remember our days, the night, the moments, our times together The laughs, the tears, the whispers, the dreams, the dare I remember the way you looked at me, the way you made me feel Like I was everything, the only thing that could be real It was all bullshit, a mirage, a mask you used to conceal The deceit, the lies, the shattered heart I could never seal You said you loved me, it was all just a game A game you played so well, that I could never claim I was blind, I was gullible, the only one I saw was me The only person my heart and mind could ever see You were all in my head, thoughts, and desires I was trapped in a heart fueled with fire I thought you were the one, the special one I sought But you were just a dream, a mirage, I had overly fought One day I woke up and found you gone No goodbye, no word, not even a song I was left with a broken heart, nothing more I could do but mourn I tried to move in, find someone new It was hard, almost impossible, after all I’d been through I was stuck, filled with the same pain The same pain that made my brain insane I thought of you, and all we went all through Both joy and sorrow, laughter, and cries too. It was all a lie, a mask you used to fool. The truth hurts, so I used to be excellent. You said you loved me. That was just a play. I was trivial; my emotions made prey. I was foolishly in love, hypnotized by my want. I lost my mind; I was in it; I couldn’t recant. I thought you were the one, but you weren’t. It was just a dream, a tale I thought I burnt. I’m still looking, still searching, continuing to find A love genuine, a love mien. It’s still hard, a journey defined. It is a journey of pain and heartache, that’s fine. It was a heartbreak journey, not settled.
By Owen Belenabout 14 hours ago in Poets
Enroute
The stars and planets all whipped by as Deirdre's crystalline craft sped past them. Her people, the Vlondans, had discovered that the mineral Dianthium which grew so readily on their home world not only kept their hair pink but also was a perfect material for engineering spacecraft from.
By Alicia Anspaugh7 days ago in Art
Comments (1)
Nice poem